Mon Amant
by twostrandsofmelody
Summary: If only Christine had accepted his disfigurement.


**A/N: In my mind the Phantom is Ramin Karimloo's version of him from Love Never Dies. And Christine would be Sierra Boggess, the Christine from Love Never Dies, as well.**

~o~

_My angle of music. My guide. My guardian. Grant to me your glory.  
Angle of music, hide no longer._

Christine may sing those sweet melodies that tug and pull at my ears, but she did not mean them. She was the glorious one, not I. She would neither wish to see my true face anymore than she would desire to see a rotting cadaver. I was a hideous hell monster that did not deserve an Angel like her.

"Mon Ange?"

I rose to my feet; a subconscious hand moving to my face to make sure my mask was secure. "Did you rest well?"

Christine shrugged her shoulders, "Yes. Thank you, it has been some time since I have slept well above. "

I let my eyes flicker over her form. She looked radiant in white, "Somehow sleep seems to come so much easier below ground, it must be due to the nature of the depths." Underground was meant for the endless sleep of the death.

Christine's smile seemed to light my dark dungeon, "I just think it is because I am comfortable here." She bit her lip and looked away shyly, "With you."

Pride surged through me tangled with fear. I turned away from her, unable to meet her eyes. "Then your voice must reflect your ease."

I felt Christine close behind, her hand resting on my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of her hand through the thin material of my undershirt. "Christine." I warned slightly, my fingers resting on the keys of the organ.

"Yes, mon ange?" I was no angel.

I shook my head, "Please do not call me that, you are my angel."

Christine laughed breathlessly, "Then what I am to call you? 'Phantom' hardly works, and 'monsieur' sounds so stiff. You are neither an apparition or Mssrs. Andre and Mssrs Firmin."

I looked over my shoulder, finding that she was so very close to me. "Erik."

Her head cocked, in an angelic manner, "What?"

"My name. Erik Destler."

A smile spread across her delicate lips. She silently spoke my name, testing the sound.

"Does it fit?"

"Erik." Christine let out a soft, soprano laugh, "I could not imagine a better name. Except for perhaps..." She reached out, her hand resting on the perfect side of my face, "Mon amour."

Why was that I wanted her to love me and yet it terrified me more than even my nightmares of my tortured childhood. "No Christine!" I snapped, rising quickly and escaping from her presence."

"But.. Erik." She stood there dumbfounded. I knew I gave her such mixed signals. She did not understand how deprived from love and touch I had been. I wanted it with every fibre of my being and yet feared it more than life without her.

"No, Christine." I sighed, smoothing my hand over my hair, "Come let us rehearse those notes that were troubling you." I snatched up the loose sheets of music, beckoning here near.

"Why are you pushing me away?" Christine asked boldly as she approached me. "Why do you hide behind that mask?"

"You do not understand."

"If you were more open, then I would."

An aggravated sigh left my body, "Please, Christine."

"Tell me why you wear that mask."

"No."

"Please."

"Christine you are trying my patience." I warned, my eyes flaring wide.

Christine took a few more, bold steps towards me. The short nap had apparently filled her with a bold spirit. "Show me what's behind the mask."

"You would not dare to see." I scrutinized, "I do not dare to see it. Do you not see that mirrors are covered in this dungeon?"

"I think it is not as bad as you perceive, we are our own worst critics after all."

I scoffed, laughing darkly, "Will you not sing?"

"Not until you remove your mask, I want to see you."

"Then I will not write."

"I will not go on," She retorted quickly, her head tilting up proudly.

"Then it is settled," I chided turning away from her, letting the sheets of music skitter across the floor.

"Your mask inhibits me," Christine added, soft and steady.

"How does my mask affect you, in any way?" I placed my hands on my hips, staring at her like she was a foolish child. "This child's play does not suit you Christine. "

"It does. I swear it."

"How?" I asked, stepping away as she grew near again.

"It disables me from doing what I have desired to do for some weeks now."

I felt my Adam's Apple quiver as she stared at me. She was the image of perfection. Her face could bring any man to his knees. "What is it that you wished to do?"

"Kiss you," Her lips fell open, "I cannot kiss you when that mask obscures your lips."

Sweet Jesus, she has desired to kiss me? My heart soared, more than it soared when she sang for me.

"Christine." My lips curved up in a smile as I reached out to touch her shoulder.

"But I cannot kiss you because you will not remove your mask, so it does not matter." She turned away from me, strolling causally away.

I followed after her spellbound, "But." I removed a black blindfold from one of my busts. "This."

She turned, pretending poorly to be uninterested but her eyes were glued to me with intrigue, "A blindfold?"

"I'd remove my mask but you must promise to keep this on."

Her eyebrows arched, "So that we may kiss?"

"Yes." I breathlessly responded. Would she agree? Would I be allowed to lay my lips upon hers? New music would come to me with this moment.

She smiled, nodding reluctantly. "I will submit."

I smiled, feeling a happiness I had yet to encounter. I had never kissed someone before. No one would have allowed a monster, such as I, to touch them, let alone kiss them. I brushed her hair back gently, my fingers lingering on the soft ivory skin of her neck. I moved behind her to tie the blindfold securely, sliding it up over her eyes.

"Promise?"

"Yes." She smiled sweetly, nodding her head. "I promise."

I took a shaky breath as I reached for my mask. She reached her hands out, "Please keep your hands to yourself." The tremor in my voice must have given away the fear I was feeling, because she obeyed without hesitation.

I laid my mask down to the side of us, on top of a pile of sheet music. Would I kiss her properly? Would she feel the disfigurement of my lip and be repulsed? So many thoughts danced through my mind. If I did not kiss her now I would lose any chance of doing it again.

Hesitantly I leaned in, cupping her cheek gently. Her lips were strange and warm; the feeling was foreign but divine. I felt her hands resting on my waist, pulling me closer. My eyes closed in the mesmerizing bliss that was her lips.

She was intoxicating.

She pulled back from the kiss, taking in a deep breath. "Open your eyes Erik."

How did she know my eyes were closed?

Horror ran through me as my eyes shot open, "Christine!" I met her eyes. She'd removed the blindfold. She'd broken her promise.

She had seen the monstrosity of my disfiguration.

"You promised!" I roared, reaching for my mask.

She intercepted my hands, stealing it away and clutching it to her chest, "Am I still here?"

"Please." I held my hand over my face, extending my other out for the mask. "Please."

"Erik, I am still here." Christine spoke softly, reaching out to lay her gentle hand over my masking hand.

"I'm a monster. Not even my mother could love this face."

"I am not your mother," Christine pulled my hand away from my face. My eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment, "I am your lover."

She stroked my disfigurement softly, "Lover?"

"Mon amant." She bit her lip softly, before leaning up to press those tender lips to mine.


End file.
